#the eldritch komaeda thing

[doctor-hopper]

It always started the same. The dilapidated shrine walls began to shimmer as if by a warmthless heat-haze, and suddenly Kamukura was standing at the wooded edge of a garden instead: mossy statues at the gate, clay tiles dappled with smoky-hued petals, trees whose branches seemed to start and stop wherever they pleased, alien constellations in a black sky peering through the gaps the branches left. Outside it was midwinter, but the breeze here smelled of springtime and decay. Each time Kamukura came here they tried to focus their Analysis on some particular smell or sound, trace it back to some too-young origin and expose the irrational illusion of it all. But the threads never frayed as expected; they stretched back in perfect contiguous causality. It was as if the garden had always been here.

A limbic prickle, at that. Still interesting. (And something weary whispered, For now.)

Up ahead, in the heart of the garden, was a lone sunflower. Taller than last time. Not yet in bloom. But now the wind was teasing its leaves, and with it came a voice, if you could call it that, airy and lively and seeping in from all around.

“. . .And he did get away with it at first, and I was so proud to hear he’d managed to make anything of my counsel. He was so afraid, you know. Especially of me! But you do know fear is so often an impetus for hope. . .” They approached slowly, seemingly unnoticed on light feet, as the voice moved to the fountain and the fountain babbled on. “And yet right on the way home the car exploded, and he died on the highway. Unbelievable, don’t you think so? I never did get to find out what happened to his poor old mother.”

It was a story they had heard before. Pored over, cross-referenced. The entity liked to tell them stories when they came, stories of mortals from long ago—in a stirring of leaves here, a rush of water there, now the creeping of an ant’s legs. In binaries and balances. It liked to make others view the world as it did, as an interconnected machine, every motion an omen of future chaos to shape, or sway with, or become. It was a desperately apophenic lens, the kind born of loneliness dripping down countless human lifetimes and growing more bleak and pungent with each. Kamukura generally felt they had made contact with something too pathetic to call a deity.

“His soul’s actually planted right here, next to yours,” the being said with a spider creeping up the sunflower’s stalk, in lilting lonely reminiscence. “Ah, when he was alive and in full bloom, you should’ve seen him! A tall canola flower from the fields of Nyuta, it must’ve been, earthy and vibrant, just as golden as you’ll be. . .”

The spider may have approximated a dry laugh. Only the barest hint of the canola could still be seen, a withered stem, the flaky gold-dust of dead petals.

(The way the presence spoke of legend and struggle never enticed Kamukura, but the fact every mortal it met was doomed never bothered them, either.)

Sensing a trailing-off, Kamukura finally chose to step forward into the clearing and say, by way of greeting, “You talk to the flowers.”

And with that, an immensely singular focus turned onto Kamukura—like the water and wind stilled to welcome them, like the absence in the air caressed their skin. A disturbance of Kelvin-Helmholtz swirls drawn in negative space. They recognized each other.

“. . .Ah, hello!” it said in a voice just a little more located, a little more aware. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you right away, how uncouth of me! I often don’t know I’m doing it, to be honest. But you know the thing about flowers, they don’t actually understand a word you say. . .and it was all reruns, don’t worry. You’re not missing any crucial points of data. . .and besides, no matter the story I tell, you know how it’ll end by now, right?”

“Hello,” Kamukura said. “I was not worried.”

The anxious breeze relaxed back as it deposited dandelion seeds in their hair. It made them linger for a moment, in the warm wind and the starlight and the distortion they would eventually chart and understand but still did not.

Then, reopening their eyes, they said, “Go on.”

Stars like eyes blinked and rippled. A blue morpho flapped its wings in momentary confusion.

Perhaps that came off too terse, vague. They lay down on the cool clay tiles, looked heavenward, and clarified: “You can go on, if you would like. You may continue the story.”

The vacuum was slow to respond, but then it sprawled and happily continued on, for when you welcomed it to speak it seldom stopped—the terrible fates of its past charges, the observations of millennia. And Kamukura closed their eyes, felt the stones’ embrace, the petals beneath. As they listened their own human form began to melt a little too, shift into something more comfortable.

“It’s lucky my sunflower sprung up when it did,” the falling petals said at one point as Kamukura was curling up and becoming something fluid and feline and many-limbed. “Sunflowers are hardy and beautiful, but their long roots mean they need a lot of room or they won’t turn out quite right. . .”

It was hardly a voice anymore. “. . .I do hope all this empty, fertile soil I’ve got means it’ll stay alive for a while.”

But then the words soon softened and melted out of perception completely, and instead became a voiceless buzzing in the bones, spiriting away all the mirage-matter around them into bending light. When Kamukura was there, it seemed just as happy to be with them in silence.

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Hi, Fala! You know, I like to think of that church au with the fem komaegi. I don't know, for some reason the genderbend versions, especially the fem komaeda, appeal to me more.And I wonder. If Komaeda is essentially a demon, is it conceivable that she could be a mistress in her church as well as a deity? Not in terms of her walking around saying "I am Hope," but making up an alter ego deity and calling herself by a different name. Kind of like Angie and Atua.

And when Makoto investigated the whole thing, she wondered: who was that saint who spoke on behalf of Hope? And Komaeda,that suddenly appeared behind her back: Ah, that was my emo phase when I was younger, never mind, sweety ^_^.

Just wanted to share my thoughts.

Ah yis the emo phase in which one creates a Saintsona to preach the word of Hope to the masses. We’ve all been there.

Lol gotta admit though, if I was an immortal being with not much to do besides fuck around and find out I too would become a quasi-cult figure just for the shits and giggles. ESPECIALLY if I was an eldritch monstrosity. I would be like “let’s see how gullible these insignificant organisms are tee hee ^-^”

Comes back thousands of years later to find they started a whole religion around you like:

Imagine your emo phase being immortalized forever. Damn bro.

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

servant anon: okay so, hm, are you okay with a general like desc of lobotomies? bc me being me, who's interested in my characters, looked it up and there are a few kinds but it's generally the same-ish? it's just like, disconnecting things, hence izuru's lack of emotion.

i honestly think the lobotomy was more of an after thought, mainly bc emotions and the chemicals they produce might fuck up the procedure of talent transplant etc

also, considering that waas like, shot in the heart but survived ordeal, it really is difficult to gauge his luck bc, did izuru make that gun jam with his luck or was it komaeda's bad luck just biting his ass, did izuru just want to shoot him but didnt care if he died thats why komaeda lived or was that their lucks clashing? that scene gives me so much to think about because for what it's worth its just SO. *strangles it* i think with how fickle of a talent luck is, izuru can turn his on and off, he only turned it on to avoid getting shot perhaps??? idk lmao

Honestly I'd just prefer not, thanks for asking though, appreciate the offer! I'll just take your word that theres some credence to the idea!

Kamukura is such a fucking wasted character and I love him but my god is he so wasted potential the fuck is going on my eldritch haired fucker, what are you doing. Much to think about, the fuck is up with him. He's both the closest to god you'll get in danganronpa but he also looks like he ways 90 lbs soaking wet and like you'd find him in a discount bin at a spirit halloween. Iconic really but also what the fuck.

[anatthema-art]

Tumblr Men Taxonomy

Ever since the rise of the Spamton fanbase i’ve been seeing a lot of debate on if spamton should be considered a Tumblr Sexyman or not and i think everyone saying he’s NOT is correct, but i’ve been talking with some friends and have realized a pattern in what i’d like to lovingly call a new “branch” of tumblr men/people because it’s an exceedingly common character archetype i feel us as a userbase need to acknowledge and treat separate from your oncelers and the like.

These guys? they’re all classic Tumblr Sexymen right? well, by consulting the primary sources  talking with my friends who were on the website and in the fandoms during the golden age of tumblr men, i’ve realized a massive part of sexyman culture people FORGET is that their appeal doesn’t just come from them being lanky bastard twinks. (we’ll get to sans later)

Their main appeal from a fandom perception is their actual or perceived HUMANITY. That sounds a little weird considering half these characters arent even human, but hear me out. Characters like the onceler and komaeda from dangan ronpa are just... dudes? Like they’re fucked up dudes, but they’re just GUYS. Sans too, even though not a human person, is still a very ORDINARY guy underneath the fandom-imposed angst. the appeal of these characters came from people seeing a spark of relatability and normalcy underneath all their Issues(tm) and fanwork, while portrayed as the “I can fix him” mentality came from a genuine place of exploration into what these people could BE

characters who AREN’T human, like bill cipher, wheatley, and dare I say the goddamn clock from DHMIS were QUITE LITERALLY humanized to explore a potential reality where they COULD be more of... PEOPLE despite their human nature. If they had become popular in THIS day and age, dare i say they fall into our SECOND category more (and as these interpretations of them are fanon i dare say they DO double class considering the disconnect between these common fan headcanons and fans which prefer the source material versions)

and then you get to characters like alastor or jack frost, who were once entirely human, then becoming inhuman entities, and that small bit of something left in there provides intrigue to explore them as people beyond their fun personality exteriors. 

Now, here’s where I’d like to propose the divide. Some of these characters gained less fan notoriety than others (especially because toby fox seems to be the main supplier of these guys) but they have often been labelled TSMs when I see a pretty distinct through line between them, with a little bit of wiggle room

The name i’ve been lovingly calling these guys is Disney Channel Eldritch Horrors. I am very open to new propositions however as the name implies that they are both from the Disney Channel and eldritch horrors which isn’t always correct. I haven’t found a similar name that conveys the same VIBES yet, so if anyone has any ideas for a better name i’d love to hear it. basically, the gist of this trope is that we have some weird little guys who are probably inhuman nightmares who’s appeal comes from sheer force of personality. this is where you get your weird little clown men and goofy loveable abominations. (i feel like some homestuck characters might fit this bill but i know absolutely nothing about any of them)

some of them MAY have some sort of tragedy involved in their backstory (spamton, flowey) but the main appeal of liking the character i’d argue comes more from the sheer strength of their characterization, rather than that stuff. Spamton is the closest to breeching this, but i feel for spamton fans i see way more posts about how people wanna throw him in a microwave than discussing the deep ramifications of his backtory (plus, he wasn’t ever a human person either.) Flowey on the other hand, the fandom has split asriel and him SO far as to be entirely separate characters despite the divide being less of a thing in canon, and people who are fans of just flowey tend to focus less on his backstory. 

now you’ll see i’ve also included discord in here, which is to demonstrate that i don’t think the body type for these guys has to exclusively be “some little shaped dude”, because discord tows that line, but his appeal still stays in that sheer force of personality, and he’s also very much NOT a human being. as mentioned earlier, the canon versions of wheatley and that stupid clock also probably fit this bill more. Bill Cipher is where i see this divide the strongest, between the canon character and fan reactions and he’s such a popular character that his fanbase CAN be split between these two camps i think. 

disney channel eldritch horrors i think, can be classified more on creator intent with their existence rather than fan reaction like a classic TSM. some of these characters gained more popularity than others but there’s a very specific crowd who forms to liking these characters over the TSM variety.

now, one last proposal in taxonomy, is that the twink body type vs lil shaped guy is an indicator of which category a character may fall into but it is not the primary factor and can be overridden by personality 

sans is a weird lil guy in classic toby fox fashion, but i think his status as a Tumblr Sexyman should not be questioned since his fandom was the closest thing to the replication OF the onceler fandom and his appeal was very steeped in his more darker aspects of the character. fizzarolli on the other hand, is very much a lanky beanpole dude, but he also is a stupid chaotic jester man who’s sheer VIBES overpower his body type and his popularity is for that personality. this is a rare phenomenon, but i realized it to be the case through some friends’ OCs, as calling some characters “tumblr sexymen” felt incorrect the deeper i thought about it

so uh... thank you for coming to my ted talk? i have a weird fascination with fan culture around these two specific camps of characters and i felt that i wasn’t able to express why i loved my weird jester men so much until now, as i felt my attachment to them felt a little conflated with a different TYPE of fan culture, and so i spewed my word vomit into something somewhat coherent. 

[fictionkinfessions]

good news!! we have figured out (not officially as in diagnosed just through further research) that we may perhaps be a mix of endo and traumagenic, i formed because P really resonated with my source. EH, the eldritch being who wanted to play Uno with me (we do not know it's name, they haven't told us) has been here since P's childhood distracting them with games after distressing events, i believe they're a Protector almost?

and we've determined why Kamukura formed!! P's gf (our gf?) took to us possibly being a system really really well and was willing to help remind us to get an official diagnosis when it's possible, and we've always connected her with Kamukura.

i have no idea if this makes sense but it does to us! still working on whether or not we're median or multiple, though personally i'm leaning on the latter! i have to confess, this is a learning experience that i'm really nervous about, but i have hope things will end up okay, we're gonna try conjuring up a table both for practice in making an innerworld and for Uno :))

this world is so much kinder than the source i come from, i'm. i'm glad to be making new memories that are bright instead of bleak.

- komaeda fictive [#Hope🍀]

[potatotrash0]

the only kamukura dynamic that matters is komaeda seeing kamukura and being like "baby boy. baby." while everyone else is terrified. like he's out here radiating murder energy and komaeda just <3 <3 <3 zero fear whatsoever.

honestly the funniest thing to me is just. like. supernatural aus where kamukura is an eldritch horror or something equally horrifying and komaeda reacts with mild surprise before grinning really big and deciding he’s absolutely gonna try and date the murder man because he’s cute

[drkstrudd]

Funny thing I noticed is that they tried to downplay a LOT of elements from the original P2 in the PSP localization. For example, Anna and Noriko. The fact that Hanakouji's nickname is hanaji, and not kozy. What Jun actually says at the end, and that his Japanese voice used to be a lot deeper than Nagito Komaeda. Joker's voice didn't use to be like that, but simply an eldritch version of Jun's voice.

They also cut a few interactions among characters. Small details, but still interesting to think about.

[violexides]

give me 18....

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

--

jim my beloved hello...

oh christ, this one is quite difficult to find! i sort of danced around a few here, so i’m going to go through one and then give two honorable mentions. 

so, in the fic if emily brontë wrote about blades of grass (and ophelia set it aflame), there is this part at the end that’s written sort of in a playscript style, just to experimentally mess with that sort of thing. 

in it, it mentions that hinata is caring for a cut komaeda got on his finger via a sharp blade of grass, which was a referenced event earlier in the oneshot. komaeda gives a very poor sort of reassurance, in part because it’s simultaneously genuine and half-assed considering the circumstances, and hinata counters it with a non-sequiter, asking if komaeda has “written [hinata] into a play already.”

from there, hinata references sonnet 130 by shakespeare, which is his most popular (?) sonnet-- it’s the one where he talks about his mistress being, uh, ‘inferior’ in sorts to other people’s partners, but finishes it off by saying that his depiction of her imperfections is more realistic than idealized perceptions of partners. hinata notes, though, that the couplet at the end (i.e. the twist) is retracted from what he’s envisioning komaeda’s written perception of him to include, if that makes sense. 

komaeda rhetorically asks what hinata would do if komaeda did write him into a ‘play’ of sorts, and hinata asks him if hinata can write the other into his memory. to which komaeda says a whole, memories and shakespearean tragedies are different, we’ve read macbeth a thousand times together (which, in retrospect, if i was looking for more symbolism i could have picked a better play but eh). hinata says that they all have the “same fucking end”, and komaeda basically says agree to disagree. 

it ‘finishes’ (because i dislike the last line in this i will pretend it does not exist), with the line: HINATA: yeah, and who’s the one who has to fucking live with it?

just. lot of metaphors in this piece, lot of lit references, pretty experimental. i’ve always been pretty fond of it-- i remember sort of my headspace when i wrote it, too, which was neat. 

(BRIEF honorable mentions-- part of sleep to the freezing where they talk about the poem he wishes his beloved were dead by w.b. yeats, which is also referenced in the fic linked above ironically, and komaeda links it to the concept of harakiri. 

second honorable mention-- nightmare sequence komaeda has in a wip i have yet to publish that describes this near-eldritch sort of gaping mouth at the bottom of a cliff. i can’t say too much here for the symbolism of that until i finish the fic itself and, well, sort it out, but i’ve always been fond of that thought.)

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: So… Proposals, Huh?

Author: @thatsrightdollface

For: @namsuuuuuuu

Rating/Warnings: Somewhere between G and T, again.  :P

Prompt: komaeda and hinata are back in jabberwock island, watching the sunset on the beach (or somewhere else ill leave that up to you) just chatting and then komaeda randomly says he wants to marry the hope sleeping inside of hinata and hinata is like tf are u saying now komaeda i dont have time for ur bs (the plot twist is that they do get married)

Author’s Notes:  :D  Gift three out of three for you!!!  I truly hope you’ve had fun with them…  Happy Komahina exchange, and I’m sorry for anything I got weird!  Thank you.  :’)  This one is about 2,000 words!

It was easy to forget this version of Jabberwock Island wasn’t real. The sand was just as warm under Hajime Hinata’s feet as it would’ve been otherwise – just as likely to be filled with spiny buried shells, too, and bits of sea glass like opaque chess pieces with all their features worn away.  Knights without battles left to fight; kings without crowns worked into the makeshift bone of their tiny heads.   Sunlight catching over the ocean even stung Hinata’s eyes just as badly as the real thing did, on that boat where he lived now with all the other former Remnants of Despair.  He had thought it was funny when Nagito Komaeda asked to come back here, into the simulation where they’d met.  But hey, a lot of what Komaeda said or wanted seemed kinda funny to Hinata, and so he’d said screw it.  Why not?

Jabberwock Island had been meant as such a healing place, on that pseudo-class trip so long ago.  Too many of Hinata’s memories from that time were sour, though, obviously.   Focused on murder games, Ultimate Despair and some dumb robotic bear.  The smell of blood and sea-salt.   Class trials.  The Final Dead Room.  All that.  But not every memory was awful, Hinata supposed.  It would’ve been hard to forget how warm and comfortable things were with Komaeda at first, there, before he started in on his toxic, murder-y Hope shtick.  Before Hinata learned who all of them really were, or had been, or could give into one more time.

It wasn’t that Hinata felt a burning need to build sandcastles on Jabberwock Island again – especially given the way bizarre things always seemed to happen to Komaeda’s sandcastles, like the one that got swallowed by a huge groaning whale or the one that sank into a mysteriously-opened underground crypt they’d decided not to explore thanks to all the bloodstains.  Komaeda being the former Ultimate Lucky Student was just like that.  But Hinata hadn’t been exactly opposed to riding that Jabberwock Island carousel one more time, either.  Komaeda’d rested his cheek against the fancy mechanical horse’s hand bar thing and closed his eyes for a second, then, listening to the music.

Hinata and Komaeda were the only two running the Jabberwock Island simulation, just then, and the world seemed so quiet all around without their classmates dueling one another over snack food or screaming about the fearsome might of demonic hamsters.  That was okay, though.  Komaeda hated loud places, and Hinata knew sometimes the Remnants’ boat got to be a little much for him.  They were in pretty cramped quarters nowadays, after all, and Komaeda’s bunk was just across from Nekomaru Nidai’s.  The Ultimate Team Manager wasn’t known for a subdued daily routine, not by a long stretch, and Komaeda kept having to patch up his newly-splintered wall before seagulls flew in and attempted to nest in his hair, or a wave swept up and drenched everything he owned in sticky ocean water.  Hinata had asked Komaeda to trade bunks a few times by now, and Komaeda always glanced over him slowly, then.  Calculating.  He had something to say about that business, for sure, but he hadn’t actually said it yet.

The sun was setting over Jabberwock Island, now, and Hinata was leaning back in one of those beach chairs he and his classmates hadn’t gotten to relax in much back during their murder game days.  The sky looked sweet and syrupy citrus, like a pack of popsicles melting all over the ocean.  Once, that dripping red-pink strawberry sun would’ve made Hinata think about bleeding, first.  Probably because he’d seen so many of his friends bleeding into the sand.  Now, Hinata tried to decide if Komaeda would’ve rather had a lime or grapefruit popsicle, if he went to grab some.  Komaeda didn’t really like sweet things, but it was ridiculously hot on the islands even as nighttime came.  Maybe they’d have to get back to the boat soon, actually.  Make sure nobody’d finally sunk the damn thing.

Komaeda’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail low on his neck – he was burying his own legs in the sand, thoughtfully.  Slowly.  It probably meant something that Hinata’s first thought on the matter had been “Huh, maybe Komaeda’s making himself a fish tail or something?” instead of “Looks like Komaeda’s burying himself alive.”

“All I’m saying is I think I could’ve had that boss myself if I’d picked different armor,” Hinata said.  They were talking about this video game they’d been playing with Sonia Nevermind lately, back in the bowels of the Remnants of Despair boat.  It was a game that’d used to belong to Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer – it was a game Hinata was determined to finish up even if it was super hard and took him a million years.  Hinata was playing as a Rogue that’d turned out to be frustratingly difficult to level up, the Ultimate Princess was playing a Berserker with tons of expensive weaponry and Komaeda was playing a Paladin he’d somehow managed to corrupt pretty early into the game with insanely powerful dark magic.  It was an easy conversation.  Hinata had been over this before, and he knew just as well as any of them that his character definitely couldn’t have taken on this particular boss all alone.  Sonia’s and Komaeda’s characters probably could’ve done it, though, so he had to hold his own, didn’t he?

“Oh, I’m sure,” Komaeda said, clearly unconvinced.  He patted down the sand over his ankles.  Shot Hinata a soft smile.  “I’d offer you my armor – but it’s cursed, you know.  Pretty unlucky…  I can only wear cursed armor, after all…”  That was one of the conditions of Komaeda’s dark magic thing, in the game.  He was communing with ancient eldritch creatures living behind these spooky black mirrors you could find everywhere, too.  That was gonna be an important plot thing, Hinata just knew it.

“I could try it out, at least,” Hinata said.  “Hey…  Before we head home, do you want a lime or a grapefruit popsicle?”

“Lime,” said Komaeda.  He wiggled his toes under their layers of sand.  Tipped his head over so it rested against Hinata’s arm for just the barest second.  And then he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “I want to marry the hope sleeping inside of you, Hinata.  Did you know that?”

“What…  Uh.  What the hell are you saying?” Hinata asked.  He tensed up.  He thought about jerking away, but of course that would mean Komaeda tipped sidewise, if he didn’t pull back fast enough.  Komaeda would knock his chin on the beach chair armrest and probably end up with a chipped tooth or something.  Komaeda had injured more bones than Hinata’d even known existed, apparently.  The former Ultimate Lucky Student would laugh another accident off without seeming too surprised, even as he bled more bright salty blood into the sands of that super-fake, too-familiar Jabberwock Island.  “We don’t have time for any of your…  You know.  We can’t mess around like this.  C’mon.  We have to get back to the boat soon.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Komaeda said.

…

Hinata and Komaeda’s wedding was a fairly small one, in part because the Remnants of Despair were still technically on the run from international law.  Sure it was a little unconventional to get married inside a simulation, but they made it work.  The whole “simulation” bit made it a little easier for some of their more distant friends to attend, too.  Komaeda just about screamed, clapping his mechanical prosthetic hand over his mouth when he saw the actual Ultimate Hope in the audience…  And Hinata walked up the aisle to meet him holding Chiaki Nanami’s arm.  Well.  A simulated computer-program version of Chiaki Nanami, but if anyone was going to give him away nowadays it would’ve had to be her, right?  They still hadn’t beaten that particular game she’d left behind, with all those black mirrors and Hinata’s incredibly difficult-to-play Rogue, but they were getting there.  Things would come together in time…  Or else Sonia would just get fed up and kick all the enemy characters’ asses on her own, one of these days.

Hinata couldn’t honestly believe how everything was coming together around him, actually, but there it was all the same.  When he’d given Komaeda a ring a few weeks after their conversation on the beach, Komaeda had opened his mouth like he had so many things to say.   Monologues about Hope and worthiness, about his own ruinous luck – exclamations about the potential he’d always seen inside Hinata, like a sacred stone burning with light from deep under a mountain.  Something. But he’d just melted into Hinata’s arms, actually.  He’d hidden his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck and murmured, “…I thought you decided all that was just some of my bullshit again…”

The ring had words engraved along the inside of its thin white-gold band.  Hinata would probably be in debt to the Ultimate Affluent Progeny for all time, after borrowing enough to have it made.

Nanami had done up Hinata’s tie for him, just before the wedding, telling him they’d come a long way.  His hands were shaking too much to do it up himself, which was weird because, you know, this was Komaeda waiting at the end of the aisle.  This was Hinata’s Komaeda, who he knew he didn’t have to be nervous around by now.   Komaeda whose hair he’d pulled out of his face while he was seasick, and who hadn’t known what to say when he read what Hinata engraved on the inside of his ring.  Komaeda who actually hadn’t worn that ring yet, not even once.  The Former Ultimate Lucky Student was sure it would end up exploded or melted off his hand, somehow, because of who he’d always been.  And y’know, that might’ve been true, but Hinata had bought the thing for him anyway.  Hinata knew what he was getting into, here.

He’d caught just a glimpse of Komaeda in a pale cream suit, standing with his hands behind his back under a canopy hanging with shells and flowers, strung with soft lights.  Komaeda was standing so still, as if that could keep his luck from wrecking the moment just before it came.  He was waiting with his eyes closed, a peaceful smile on his face, ready to see Hinata whenever Hinata decided he was ready for him. Their friends were sitting in rows before them, on either side of a pathway lined with spiny seashells Gundham Tanaka had gotten his army of ferocious hamsters to dig out of the sand for them just that morning.   The ocean sparkled at Komaeda’s back, unknowable and huge, full of monsters and sunken ships and – well, actually…  Maybe not.  This was an artificial ocean, after all.  It existed for this moment on the sand.   So easy to forget that, huh?

Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician, played something uncharacteristically slow and gentle on her guitar as Hinata started up the aisle.  She sang a new song Hinata hadn’t heard before, about impossible luck, about proposals made that didn’t expect to be believed, about her friends who had believed in a future even when she couldn’t. Komaeda shifted when that music started up, blinking his eyes open against the glare of the sun.  When he saw Hinata watching him, he choked out a laugh.  Komaeda laughed when he was nervous, Hinata knew.

He mouthed the words, “We’re okay.  Breathe,” as he walked, and Komaeda took a deep, shaky breath.

This was all just a few minutes before that huge wave came, taking away most of the canopy and a whole table full of food the Ultimate Chef had prepared for everybody, but…  Hey.  Hinata and Komaeda each got in most of their vows before any of that, at least.  There you go.

[altarfated]

´͈ ᵕ `͈ for komaeda uvu

FORTUNATE —— is that what this was ?  ephemeral breaths of calamity were always his to adorn, draped across a life of anarchy in tenuous veils of fate, that’s what he called it, what curled his tongue in such elusive enticement.  

                                                LUCK.

now, some would’ve called these circumstances quite the opposite, or so he could presume. slovenly tresses of white slicked back in arbitrary clumps with a greasy, unknown substance drawing it to a sheen-like lustre.  Nagito’s ribs are the home to no such things as dismay nor infuriation but rather, a seething notion that swathes, ascends, rises, settling in his throat in asphyxiation. his lips draw to a subtle, almost eldritch smile, vacuous gaze lingers at where their fingers brush, the tool that had been in his grasp is released but for a moment remains in a spectral caress.

“———— I should be thanking you.” his tone a honey-dewed drawl, remnants of minacious tendrils encompass what should have been a genuine confession  " After all, it is only because of you, that even irrefutable garbage like me can join hands with the likes of an ultimate.“

Nagito inhales upon amusements whim, laughter, hollow, wretched, curdles in his throat before seeping through pursed lips. ” truly, i am very lucky.“

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Hope's Peak Church

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2pkpCvv

by puppeteerofdoom

"Do you believe in Gods?" "No, I've never had a reason to."

A new religion is suddenly all the rage. A religion with hope being a huge impactful theme on it. At one point, members of this new religion start to disappear and then later show up dead on church grounds. Naegi Makoto is a detective investigating the case by going undercover as a nun because the amount of girls they had to go undercover to the different churches across the country was scarce. The detective agency suspects the staff behind the church are the culprits behind it but it is too early to tell. Naegi's main focus is to investigate the church under the spastic priest Komaeda Nagito, though it proves to be a greater challenge to investigate than he originally had speculated because Komaeda appears to be aware of even the most insignificant things Naegi does. Naegi eventually finds out that there is something more devious under the holy and pure mask of the religion than it appears but by the time he realizes it, he's already in deep trouble.

Original idea of the AU was started by gngm-kmkm on tumblr so my story my differ from their's a bit! All rights for the original idea go to them!

Words: 3096, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Hope's Peak Church

Fandoms: Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Naegi Makoto, Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime, Souda Kazuichi, Kamukura Izuru, Amami Rantarou, Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyouko, Enoshima Junko, Kirigiri Jin, Fujisaki Chihiro

Relationships: Komaeda Nagito/Naegi Makoto, Hinata Hajime/Souda Kazuichi, Kamukura Izuru/Souda Kazuichi

Additional Tags: Well everybody is in there but the main important characters are like the first 6 or 7, Horror, Mystery, eldritch horror, H.P. Lovecraft, Lovecraftian Horror, There's a bit of comedic stuff in there because that's what my writing is like, Body Horror, Highly religious themes, Demonic themes???, IDK hOW DO YOU TAG STUFF?????

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2pkpCvv

[violexides]

My friend had an idea where Izuru is surgically made taller, and he ends up taller than Yasuke whos most likely 6'4. This is a hilarious visual to me.

OH MY GOD HE’S FUCKING ELDRITCH ELDRITCH OK

ya. yasuke is 6′4???????????? sir PLEASE marry me

ANYWAY i fuck hard with surgically made taller things in all seriousness, whenever i write kamukomahina, kamukura is either the same height as komaeda or a bit shorter. i just like hinata being the shortest (even though he’s already so tall sir please marry me) 

gfdksjl this made my day anon i am deeply terrified of eldritch izuru now